


Watch The Ashes Among Blazing Fires

by RedCrimez89



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Perspective, Brothers, Bruce Wayne Died, Character Death, Crying, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Emotional Hurt, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt No Comfort, Hurts So Good, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Robin, Other, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Sad Ending, So stay tuned, Tears, You've been warned, but dick and jason are gonna work through it, dont worry I’ll make em happy later, everyones sad, for real this time, hahahahha, i rewrote this too many times, not even an ounce of happiness, pls help-, so does Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCrimez89/pseuds/RedCrimez89
Summary: in which the end comes barreling forward much quicker than anyone could’ve anticipated.—“ And despite all those days he told himself he didn’t care, that he didn’t need him, all it took was one phone call to go tumbling back to the square one again.“
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Watch The Ashes Among Blazing Fires

**Author's Note:**

> so. it’s been awhile..... I HAVE AN EXCUSE!!!! I had writers block :(( and I couldn’t write without despising every single word I wrote. BUT THEN! xvivon wrote like, two stories and I read them and then I became ✨ I n s p i r e d ✨ so if your reading this my angst brethren, thanks for making me cry a little :) 
> 
> Ok but the amount of times I wrote this was just - UGHH. I completely changed the plot last minute and I just died inside a little every time I wrote a little bit haha. Don’t expect me to update regularly, because idk what I rlly wanna do with this yet but I have a couple ideas and I wanna make this stuff with good quality for y’all. And if you wanna stay updated, just press the subscribe tab on this story. You’ll get an email every time I post a new chapter :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The silence of Wayne Manor is.... sullen. It’s eerie and dark and way too quiet for Jason’s taste. He can practically feel the emptiness of the mansion, the way less souls fill up the empty void of quiet and the way ghosts line up against the ancient halls. All there to tell the stories of how the end came. The bedroom is dark with no source of light whatsoever. Jason stares up at the ceiling amongst the darkness, unable to sleep due to the way his mind is running. It’s overheating, trying to process too much information only to have to reboot every five seconds to restart the grueling process. Jason thinks of the denial he feels, the bitter resentment and the heavy grief only to go back to stage one because it’s truly impossible for him to process the information. 

Bruce is dead. He’s gone, buried six feet beneath his feet, decayed and broken like he was nothing more than an overused toy.

It makes Jason.... upset? Furious? One of those things. He mad at Bruce. He’s mad at him for leaving so soon, for exiting his life when he knew Jason needed him the most. He’s mad at Bruce for not being able to make it back. He’s mad at Bruce for not being here to hold Jason tight, or whisper all the inane promises in his ear that somehow, miraculously, always made the difference in the worst times. He’s mad. He’s angry, disbelieving, heart broken, in denial, grieving. He’s that and so much more, so many emotions and feelings he cannot explain nor name because there are simply  _ too many to address. _

The headache from his crying session is still present, switching his thoughts to just how much of a weakling and disappointment he really is. There’s dried tear tracks on his cheeks and his neck is wet from the tears that have spilt there. His eyes are puffy and his nose is now clogged with snot that makes breathing an even harder task than it’d been before he’d stared crying. He shouldn’t be crying. He should stay strong, make his Father proud of him like everyone says he is. Jason should be productive like he usually is and hangout with his friends or do  _something_. But the very thought of getting out of bed is so exhausting. The idea of doing something other than the process of overthinking and trying to process the news is draining and - Jason is not okay.

He’s falling apart at the seams with no one to hold the stitches together. With no one to restitch the wound closed when it breaks open. Jason’s no punk. He can take care of himself, survive on the streets if he needed to. But... now it’s different. Jason’s different. He doesn’t live by the streets rules anymore, doesn’t have to dig in trash cans for scraps of food or sleep in soggy cardboard boxes in shady alleyways. He doesn’t have to be hesitant to trust or built with a stone luster to shield himself from the inevitable pain that comes with life in general. Jason’s more than that now. He’s a Wayne, a  _Robin_.  He’s loved and cared for and so many other things but- what about his dad?

It felt like he’d lost a limb or an organ, like now he had to find a way to function and move on without that part of his body. No one really understood Jason as much as Bruce (except Alfred).They used to watch old, outdated black and white movies together. (They could barely watch it straight for five minutes without Jason having to make a comment about how some props looked cheap and rushed for the budget cut or how the dialogue was too cliché and boring. They’d debate for hours over it.) Somedays, they’d read books in the library after Jason completed his schoolwork and occasionally, he’d allow Bruce to read to him. ( “ Bruce, come on I’m not five. I can read the book by myself, thank you very much.”) Bruce would bring him to Gotham Knights games and eat chili-dogs with him and order mint chocolate chip ice cream for them after long stakeouts.

Jason really.... he really misses his Dad.

The tears have kick started again. They flow down his face and near his lips, leaving the taste of salt on his tongue. Quiet sobs fill the room, the ticking of a clock the only thing to accompany the distressed sobs that escape him. He curls in on himself, burying his head in his arms. Jason can feel a phantom of Bruce hugging him so close, so tightly. For a moment, it feels real. So real and grounding that Jason dares to open his eyes only to be accompanied by darkness and the returning feelings of being abandoned and alone.

He pats around for his phone, the blue light blinding his eyes temporarily when he presses the home button. It’s three thirty in the morning and he’s crying in his dark, silent bedroom and the only thought that comes to him is Dick. He needs to call him, needs somebody other than Alfred to tell him it’ll all be fine. That this is some kind of cruel joke rather than the death that it is.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a shuttering breath to hide the fact Dick isn’t gonna pick up because he doesn’t really care about -

_“ Jason?”  
_

* * *

The clicking and clacking of keys is repetitive, annoying almost. It does nothing to help with the fact Dick has an intense headache and that he’s running off five cups of coffee, and energy drink, and a brief thirty minute nap. And despite the fact that he should be sound asleep and doing literally anything but straining his eyes to read the paragraphs of endless sentences in front of him, he’s in his living room sipping on a much needed cup of coffee. Dick cringes at the taste of his cold, bitter caffeine. He eyes the two Splenda packets that sit next to his computer, sighing when he realizes he never added them hence the acrid taste. With a little more force than necessary, Dick places the ceramic cup down onto the table and forces his aching fingers to type out another paragraph. It’s three am - four hours before his next police shift - andDick just... he can’t resign himself to sleep.

He’s tired. Broken down and diluted, shaking from the copious amounts of caffeine he’s ingested in the past couple hours. He’s literally on the brink of going limp and falling asleep against his second hand couch he got fifty percent off for. But if he falls prey to sleep, becomes exposed to the darkness and tricks his mind likes to play on him, he’ll wake up in the same way he’s been doing for weeks; out of breath, startled. The sheets soaked with sweat and his heart pounding, beating just as fast as his mind would be moving. It’s a tiring process. So energy draining. Dick has considered calling in sick and he’ll continue to think about at as his fingers shake after each brief pause he takes while typing. It’s starting to get to him. He’s just afraid for the moment his exhaustion really kicks in and he succumbs into a rest where he hears a loud and echoed snap, similar to that of a broken guitar string. He’s scared of hearing the screams thatbelong to a young couple, the looks of disappoint and the loud, violent yelling from a deep and gravely voice.

He’s been having these nightmares all week, ever since Alfred called and told him the news. He was in denial, not willing to believe that Bruce was gone. Because he was  _Batman_. Batman was an undefeated foe, a symbol that portrayed fear and remained standing and present at all times despite the numerous things thrown at him. He was supposed to be seemingly immortal, despite the fact he was a regular man. Just a man.

Dick had never thought of Bruce’s death. He always thought he’d go naturally, not in battle. In just seemed so... unrealistic. Impossible.

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a sigh as fuchsia and neon green dance behind the back of his eyelids.

Dick, for the first time in a long time, openly allows the thought of Bruce into his head. He’s thought of the man plenty of times. The large house he grew up in, the plethora of memories that accompany the very thought of him. Good and bad. But for a long period of time, Dick shut the good ones out, tried to focus on the pain and ire that burned in his chest. People have always said he was too quick to forgive, too easy to persuade in giving another chance. He was so tired of being constantly stepped on, so tired of being turned away and mistreated. It was sickening. Disheartening. So he remained on the dreadful things Bruce has done, focused and ranted for countless hours to feel that surge of anger. To fuel the need to prove them wrong, to prove Bruce wrong. He’s not a doormat for anyone. Kindness is something that can evaporate from him quickly. But no one would know that, would they? He was too busy always trying to be the happy guy for everyone else.

And for awhile, he had this small wish, a thin thread off hope he clung to for so many months. He had hoped Bruce would change. That he’d learn what he did and what he said  wasn’t  okay. Dick wanted an apology. He wanted The Great Batman to admit to his faults, realize his mistakes as easily as he points out others flaws. He wanted it so bad, hoped that the gaping hole between them could be mended, that they could restart again. And maybe it was because it hurt seeing Jason, so similar to him in too many ways, with Bruce. Or maybe because on those lonely, desperate nights he wanted nothing more than a pair of strong, safe arms to secure around him, remind him that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. He wanted his Dad back. He wanted  _Bruce_ back.

It took many weeks of betrayal, of bottled up anger and tears and realization to finally say, “it’s not worth it”. It took so long, too long, for Dick to get over it. To slowly heal and stop waiting for an apology or anything else he desired from the man. He built himself another bridge, far away from the ruins of their torn down relationship, and started another life. A life of his own. And despite all those days he told himself he didn’t care, that he didn’t need him, all it took was one phone call to go tumbling back to the square one again. “ Your dead and you still find a way to throw me back down again.” He whispers into thin air, tone holding a certain bitterness. There’s a frown on his face and are those?- yup, those are tears. He feels one slide down his face and Dick violently rubs at his eyes and cheeks, upset that he’s feeling this unsure and desperate for a man who couldn’t care less about him if he tried.

His phone rings, buzzing and loud. Dick startles, yelling and kicking the fold out table his computer and coffee cup rest on. He watches as they both go tumbling down and the tears kick up again because nothing is going right today and - the ringtone. It’s for Jason. Dick quickly picks up knowing that Jason  never  calls, only texts. And on the good few occasions he has, it’s usually not about something good. “ Jason?” He asks, putting the phone on speaker and crouching down to inspect the damage.

A sniffle comes from the other line.  He’s been crying. Jason doesn’t cry.

_“ .... Can I come over? I - I ...”_

“ Hey, hey,” he tries to soothe despite the fact Jason isn’t the only one in shreds and slowly falling apart. He steadies his voice with ease, sliding on a mask like he always does. “ I’ll come get you alright? Give me five minutes okay?”

Jason gives him a reply, so quiet and weak he barely catches on. They hang up once Dick makes sure Jason will be fine. He messages Alfred. Tells him to check on Jason, calls in sick for work and then Dick is out of his apartment, coffee and computer left for future Dick to worry about.

And as always, Dick’s left to clean up Bruce’s mess.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? This is actually my first time writing Dick EVER so I hope he isn’t too OOC :P and Jason.. I feel like I didn’t do him justice either. I rlly hope you enjoyed bc I spent too much time on this and if you want to share any ideas for future chapters, pls do bc I’m desperate haha.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are highly encouraged!
> 
> EDIT: 2/18/21. This series is officially being discounting due to lack of inspiration. Sorry to everyone who was anticipating a full story.


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